


Time (is a Funny Thing)

by A_dot_Gab



Series: Life is Fleeting. Death is Eternal. Take Good Care of Me. [4]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, M/M, i wrote this in the wee hours of morning and it isn't beta'd, relationship is tagged but barely there, some stuff won't make sense unless you read 'bad days' at least, the OC appears bc this fic wouldn't fit in it's series without her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:02:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098259
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_dot_Gab/pseuds/A_dot_Gab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Time, Eliza supposes, is a funny thing. It makes some things better and others worse. It can heal, or kill, or stagnate. It can go quickly, or slowly, or somewhere in between. Yes, time, Eliza supposes, is a funny thing indeed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time (is a Funny Thing)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this took so long! I am easily distracted and often struggle with motivation. But I did have a request for something with Eliza in this verse since I mentioned her in another fic so here goes.

Time, Eliza supposes, is a funny thing. It makes some things better and others worse. It can heal, or kill, or stagnate. It can go quickly, or slowly, or somewhere in between. Yes, time, Eliza supposes, is a funny thing indeed.

 

It has made her better at getting Alexander to eat and rest. Better at wiping Aaron’s tears ( and holding back her own) when Alex isn’t looking. It has made her more comfortable with Aliyah being around at all hours, appearing in seemingly random places around the house (she tries repeatedly, and fails, to forget the girl’s eyes that night with the pistols).

 

It has made Alexander worse. Made what he coughs up more blood than fluid. Made the coughing fits longer, more frequent. It has brought Alexander closer to his death (but hasn’t it done that to them all?).

 

It has made Burr more resolute, more willing to take a stand when things matter, both at work and in other circumstances too. ‘ _He is almost outspoken now_ ’ she muses to herself, skirting a puddle on the evening dusted street. It has made Burr more outwardly gentle. Anyone with eyes can see how he treats Alexander like a wilting flower petal. Eliza banishes the comparison from her thoughts.

 

The sun is still setting, but barely in the sky, when Eliza arrives at Burr’s house. She glances around the empty street, and lets herself in. Aliyah gives her a grim nod as they pass in hall. Today is a bad day, perhaps? She hears the harsh, hacking coughs moments later and it dawns on her: Alexander may have less time than they’d hoped. Her steps speed up, and still they feel too slow. The bedroom door is cracked open.

 

Aaron has a soothing hand on Alexander’s back. He looks exhausted. His eyes are deeply shadowed and his complexion is nearly as pale as Alexander’s. Alexander. He is panting heavily over a chamber pot, breath labored, body trembling. Aaron meets her eyes and they share a silent awe over the pain of the sight. Eliza steps through the door a little more heavily than necessary. Alexander looks up, smiles weakly. She smiles back. He scoots towards Aaron, making room for her to sit. She does, and, as expected, he lays his head on her shoulder, taking what comfort he can before he has to cough again.

 

She expects him to die very soon. It is morbid but true, and though she lacks a gentleman’s education and her sister’s wit, she is no one’s fool. So she expects his death the way she expects the sunrise each morning. Whether or not she has accepted it with the same wholeness is something else entirely. Every day, she comes to the house, to the room. Every day,  Aliyah gives her the same look. So does Aaron. Alexander continues to smile.

 

One day, Aliyah is not in the hall. The door is not cracked. She enters. Aaron does not look away from Alexander, who is lying down today. Aliyah stands still in the corner, a statue of dark bronze and ocher dressed in linen. She does not acknowledge Eliza either, save for a glance that says all there is to know. Eliza sits in her usual place on the bed. Alexander’s eyes flicker open, focus on her. He smiles. At her, at Aliyah, at Aaron. His eyes shut. He struggles through shallow breaths, one after the other. Squeezes Aaron’s hand once. His chest falls in exhale, does not rise again. The room is still.

 

It is some time before Aliyah moves, retrieves the doctor and coroner from where they must’ve been waiting downstairs. It is some time again before she and Aaron are both urged away from Alexander so he may be cared for. They sit in the parlor. Aliyah joins them, placing a stool in front of the fireplace and staring into the flames. And there they stay, until other servants begin to arrive at the house in the wee hours of morning, until they are escorted to rooms and put to bed like over tired children.

 

When Eliza wakes, the sun is high in the sky. She gets up, finds Aaron. He is awake, sitting up in bed, staring blankly at a wall. Aliyah sits in a chair across the room, similarly engaged. Eliza joins. With the curtains closed, the room stays dark, despite the sun in the sky. Is the sun still in the sky? How long has he been gone?  Eliza no longer knows. Time is a funny thing. But what is most peculiar about it, she decides, is how it goes on in such oblivion, unknowing. For how could it continue in the face of such life altering tragedy if it knew? Eliza can not bring herself to hazard a guess. It hurts less to not dwell on the fact that time is a funny thing, and a cruel one, too.


End file.
